


Let Them Eat (Cup)cake (Batter)

by winnerstick



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/winnerstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There doesn't need to be a point, Enjolras, we're making cupcakes. What more information do you need?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Them Eat (Cup)cake (Batter)

"I still don't understand the point of this."

When Enjolras didn't hear a response for a long time, he finally looked up at Grantaire, to see the other male staring at him with his mouth agape and the whisk he had been using held in midair, slowly starting to drip batter. If he hadn't been so confused, and mildly irritated that Grantaire was dripping cupcake batter on the floor, he probably would have laughed at him. But he was confused and mildly irritated and there was no way he was going to be cleaning that mess up later. Or any of this mess. He still didn't understand the point of this.

He just knew that Grantaire had barged in on a very busy Enjolras holding grocery bags full of ingredients--and not just the boxed kind, they made these cupcakes from scratch--and helped himself to Enjolras's kitchen. Grantaire even managed to force Enjolras into helping out, though Enjolras wasn't really sure how that had happened. He ended up with an apron slung over his head and wrapped around his waist and was now proudly sporting the phrase "Mr. Good Lookin' is Cookin'" across his chest, while Grantaire wore a similar apron, though his said "Real Men Don't Use Recipies".

Which was, apparently the motto for the day, because Grantaire was sort of just adding whatever he thought might go into cupcakes, since the actual recipe had been left at home. Judging by the pale yellow color in what was supposed to be their chocolate cupcakes, it wasn't going so well, but Grantaire was determined.

"There doesn't need to be a point, Enjolras, we're making cupcakes. What more information do you need?"

"Why we're doing this," Enjolras responded, taking the bowl from Grantaire and dumping it in the sink without a word. Grantaire only looked put-out for a second, then grinned and Enjolras and grabbed another bowl. "Can we at least do it right and look up a recipe? I'd like to be able to eat these, instead of just spending three hours using trial and error and possibly poisoning ourselves in the process.

"But then we won't be real men," Grantaire said, flinging the whisk he had been watching toward Enjolras and therefore shooting specks of water at him. He smiled sheepishly and went back to washing off whatever concoction they had made previously.

"I think we'll survive. I don't think stupid aprons from the dollar store actually carry good advice."

Grantaire shrugged and Enjolras took that to mean consent, so he pulled over his laptop and quickly printed out the first chocolate cupcake recipe he found. Grantaire looked at the print-out begrudgingly, but followed Enjolras’s instructions on what ingredients to take out. 

“Where did this idea come from?” Enjolras asked, as they measured out the ingredients and poured them into the bowl.  
Grantaire shrugged. “It just seemed like a good idea. I wanted cupcakes, I had nothing to do with my day, and I figured you had nothing to do with your day, either.”

“I had work to do,” Enjolras protested, but before he could continue, Grantaire sent him a very pointed eye-roll and Enjolras closed his mouth.

“That isn’t due for weeks, Enjolras. Can’t you do something fun for one day? Something no-stress. Just baking some sweets with your friend and going nowhere, getting nothing done, letting work stay put for a day. I think that sounds like a great idea, don’t you?”

Enjolras had to admit, this was fun. Arguing with Grantaire over tiny details such as the order and if they needed to adjust the cook-time to account for altitude and what kind of pan to use was such a nice change of pace. There was nothing viscous in their words; they weren’t trying to undermine the other or poke flaws in their ideals. It wasn’t politics or world order or other ideals, it was just the best way to make cupcakes. Enjolras found himself enjoying it very much. He found himself teasing Grantaire and Grantaire teasing back.

“How long do you think these need to cook?” Grantaire asked.

“We already agreed we didn’t need to adjust the temperature, I’m sure we can follow the recipe for how long.”

“You are so by the book. What if we don’t want them to turn out like theirs?”

“How else would we want them to turn out?” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“I dunno. Maybe a little more moist.”

Enjolras cringed. “Please don’t use that word.”

Grantaire grinned. “What word? Moist?”

Now Enjolras groaned. “You’re an awful person. Who even uses that word? I thought it was universally decided that moist is a terrible word that is never appropriate to use.”

“Moist. Moist. I really like moist cupcakes.” And as if to punctuate the atrocity, Grantaire poked Enjolras’ nose with a batter-covered finger and trailed it up to his eyebrow, leaving a chocolate-y trail from the tip to Enjolras’ forehead.

Enjolras was shocked for a moment, like he couldn’t understand what had just happened. The he registered the shit-eating grin of Grantaire and responded to it with his own smug smirk as he took a scoop of batter in his fingers and wiped it from one side of Grantaire’s face to the other. They both stared at each other for what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, before they were both moving rapidly to cover the other one in chocolate.

Enjolras couldn’t be sure how much was actually getting on Grantaire or how much Grantaire was getting on him, because they were just flinging it at each other. The cabinets and floor ended up splattered and their clothing as well, the aprons did very little to cover either one of them too well. Enjolras was sure his hair was caked in batter, judging by how much was in Grantaire’s hair, but it was all happening so fast he could hardly keep track.

And then it just… stopped. Perhaps they had run out of batter—unlikely, they could always take from the floor or counters—or maybe they had just run out of steam, but both of them stopped at the same time. Grantaire was in the middle of coating Enjolras’s neck and Enjolras was wiping it down the bit of exposed skin just under his neck, and they both stopped to stare at each other. In one, two, three breaths the distance was closed between them and Enjolras wasn’t sure who had kissed whom but their lips were pressed together and moving so rhythmically and so perfectly that he couldn’t manage to care that he was only spreading the batter more on both of them.

It was a messy cleanup later, but they both slid to their knees on the tile floor as they continued to kiss as if staying connected was more important that breathing. It might have been, judging by their hasty breaths between kisses and the way they grew light-headed. For once, Enjolras didn’t think about all the things he had to do and he didn’t gripe about the way his hair was starting to harden and his skin was starting to grow irritated from the thin layer of batter. He was kissing Grantaire like there was no tomorrow, and he wasn’t expecting it to feel as natural as it did.

**Author's Note:**

> just a dumb fluffy fic my friend sort of requested. but you guys should follow me on tumblr! beartaire ~


End file.
